


The Science of Confessions

by FinAmour



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Awkwardness, Bad Love Advice, Baked Goods, Declarations Of Love, Domestic Bliss, Fluff, Humor, Johnlock Roulette, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Pining Sherlock, Ridiculousness, Romantic Tension, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes and Experiments, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson Being Idiots, Smitten Sherlock, The Belstaff - Freeform, Timeline: Whenever you want it to be I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-23 23:51:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13798968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FinAmour/pseuds/FinAmour
Summary: “Sherlock,” John says calmly, with a touch of laughter in his voice. “What are you doing?”Sherlock heaves a long-suffering sigh, because at this point, that question is more valid than it has any reason to be.I am endeavouring to get you to notice that I am in love with you, but that doesn’t seem to be working.





	The Science of Confessions

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【授权翻译】科学表白法/The Science of Confessions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15199646) by [BakerSt233B](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakerSt233B/pseuds/BakerSt233B)
  * Translation into Wikang Filipino available: [Ang Siyensiya ng Pagtatapat/The Science of Confessions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16243616) by [allsovacant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allsovacant/pseuds/allsovacant)
  * Translation into Русский available: [Наука любовных признаний (The Science of Confessions)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16263332) by [PulpFiction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PulpFiction/pseuds/PulpFiction)



Tomorrow is Saturday. The weather is expected to be cold and rainy, as is typical for London in early February. Baker Street is likely to be quiet—Mrs. Hudson has plans to visit her sister, and New Scotland Yard has provided no decent cases as of late. 

For the most part, there will be nothing out of the ordinary about tomorrow, except that it is the day Sherlock has made plans to confess his love to John.

**********

“It's almost the weekend,” John remarks, glancing over his newspaper during breakfast. “What have you got going on tomorrow?”

Sherlock pauses his work and nonchalantly peers up at his flatmate. "Tomorrow? Why do you ask?"

For a few seconds, the two men silently gaze at one another across the table.

“Don't know. Just making conversation, I suppose,” John says, smiling amicably.

Sometimes, when John smiles, Sherlock momentarily forgets how to use words.

"Can’t think of anything," Sherlock finally replies, trying to ignore the way John’s eyes seem more deep and sapphire than usual. 

“Yeah, just as well,” John says, and the morning sunlight comes in through the window, bouncing off of his golden hair. “I haven’t got any plans either. You’re stuck with me again, I’m afraid.”

_Perfect._

“Hm, yes,” is Sherlock's casual response. 

_*******_

Sherlock has never been in love before John. Previously, he never would have considered love confessions a topic worthy of research and experimentation. In fact, he never would have considered love, full stop.

Admittedly, due to his lack of experience in the field, he feels slightly out of his element.

John is not a man of many words, so Sherlock isn't sure that jumping straight into a confession will be entirely successful. So his plan is to woo John beforehand by carrying out a chain of methodical, well-planned romantic tasks.

He has thought at length about who could best advise him on this particular topic. His natural inclination when dealing with matters of the heart is to defer to John Three Continents Watson himself, serial romantic, who has had more girlfriends than Sherlock cares to count.

_Five in the past year._

But talking to John could give Sherlock’s plans away, and prove ultimately anticlimactic.

He briefly considers Lestrade, but the detective inspector would likely want to do something unseemly, such as going out for a beer to talk about it. Sherlock would rather sit and watch paint dry than spend an evening at a foul-smelling pub. There is also Mrs. Hudson, but he isn’t sure about asking for love advice from someone whose repertoire of knowledge comes from women’s magazines and decades of being married to a murderous drug lord.

No, in order to come up with ways to convey his love that aren’t hatefully unoriginal or boring, he needs to speak to varying types of people—those who have been moderately successful in romantic relationships.

Assuming that the least elegant solution would yield the most desirable results, Sherlock ultimately decides to create an anonymous online survey, which mercifully allows him to avoid the inconvenience of dealing with people in real life. After gaining several responses, analysing and cross-referencing the data, and considering John’s personal tastes, he chooses the six most promising suggestions.

On Friday, Sherlock continues to work furiously until around midnight, when John stands up to bid him goodnight. Sherlock hums a response, but his eyes follow John up the stairs as he goes to his bedroom.

Perhaps, if the plan is successful, it will be the last time he watches John go to bed alone.

**********

**_Romantic tasks to be carried out for John prior to an actual confession of love (as suggested by internet strangers who have performed said tasks)_ **

  * **_Visual stimulation through careful planning of attire_**
  * **_Rose petals on bed ( ~~to do: contact homeless network for rose collection~~ )_**
  * **_Complimenting, Possible nicknames which are meant to be signs of affection ( ~~to do: research nicknames John might enjoy being called~~ )_**
  * **_Romantic notes placed randomly throughout shared living space—post-its in the bathroom, on laptop, inside trouser pockets?_**
  * **_The gift of time / agree to watch horrible television with him / walk him out the door when he leaves (this will convey how much I  will miss him while he is gone)_**
  * **_Spontaneous kissing—depending upon previous results. Risky? dangerous? (Exactly the type of thing John likes?)_**



**********

 **Task One:  
** **“My husband used to love it when I would surprise him by showing up in one of my sexiest outfits. Sometimes I would be waiting for him in the sitting room when he came home from work, or when he was just waking up, wearing something he found utterly irresistible—he often couldn’t keep his hands off me.” -Leah S.**

For the first task, it is necessary for Sherlock to plan the perfect ensemble—one that John will find utterly irresistible. He is certain that John is rather fond of wool vests, knit jumpers, and various shades of plaid, but Sherlock does not own clothing of that nature. In hopes of finding inspiration, he wanders to his own wardrobe and scans over rows of bespoke suits and dress shirts that are two sizes too small. Nothing seems to stand out.

He huffs in defeat and presses the door shut. And as he does, there is his answer, hanging before his very eyes.

The Belstaff.

Oh, yes.

Sherlock has seen the way that John ogles him when he is wearing this powerfully compelling piece of outerwear. The way his expression seems to set fire as Sherlock noncommittally flips his collar up, accentuating his zygomatic features.

He grins, reaching out to run a hand over the thick, sturdy charcoal wool.

Utterly irresistible he shall be.

On Saturday mornings, John typically awakens at approximately eight o’clock, and Sherlock will be waiting for him.

**********

At 7:45, Sherlock wanders optimistically into the bathroom, artfully applying his most expensive hair product to his curls and dabbing a speck of cologne onto his neck. At 7:53, he returns to his bedroom and pauses, standing before the Belstaff. He gazes meaningfully at it for a few moments—and with a quirk of his lips, he pulls the coat from the hanging hook and envelops himself in it.

On his way out of the bedroom, he lingers in front of the mirror for just a few seconds, raising an eyebrow at himself appreciatively. Then, he dramatically spins and exits the room, because there is no other way to do so while wearing this particular piece of attire.

Gracefully, he plops himself onto the sofa and waits.

At 8:04, John exits his bedroom, donning a t-shirt and pyjama pants, hair askew, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

John Watson, carrying out ordinary things in such a way that, defying all logic, makes Sherlock’s heart skip a beat.

“Morning, Sherlock,” he mumbles, making his way past Sherlock towards the kitchen. He pauses midway, blinking at Sherlock curiously; his lovely, heavy-lashed eyes wandering up and down the length of the coat.

“Good morning, John,” Sherlock croons, pulling his collar up to meet the sides of his face.

Sherlock waits for it.

_That coat makes you utterly irresistible._

_Look at you, all mysterious with your cheekbones._

_You look so sexy, Sherlock. I don’t think I'll be able to keep my hands off you._

John’s eyes, twinkling in amusement, venture back up to meet Sherlock’s as his mouth smiles through his sleepy haze.

“Are you cold?” is all John asks.

“Am I...cold?” Sherlock repeats, dumbfounded.

“The coat,” John gestures with an upwards tilt of his chin.

Sherlock stares back at him, wrapping himself tighter inside the Belstaff.

“I’ll put the kettle on to boil.” John smiles again, shaking his head, and walks into the other room.

 ** _Task One  
_** **_Results: Unsuccessful  
_ ** ******_Notes: Could not seem to compete with innate urge to make tea._**

**********

 **Task Two:  
** **“For one of our anniversaries, I came home and my husband had left rose petals lying out all over my bed. It was such a lovely romantic gesture, like something out of a movie. He got a very special reward from me that night ;)” -Jules N.**

Sherlock thinks this all sounds extravagant and absurd, but he isn’t one to comment on the matter himself. Besides, isn’t that the nature of romance? He has seen John purchase roses and various other plant objects for his own conquests, so apparently it is a common practice.

There is a rose garden in Regent’s Park, so on Friday, he had sent a member of his homeless network out to retrieve a few. When she had returned approximately two hours later, holding a bag packed with roses, Sherlock could not help but notice that they were all quite dead.

“These roses are dead,” he had assessed.

“It’s the middle of winter,” had been her response.

No matter, Sherlock had thought. A rose is a rose—that is definitely something Sherlock remembers reading somewhere. Moreover, they are not only petals, but whole roses, and John deserves nothing less than that. And for some reason, there is something so striking about dead flowers.

_Even the faded can be beautiful, for they have lived a beautiful life._

At 9:27 on Saturday morning, John heads into the bathroom for a shower. Sherlock has approximately 12-17 minutes to carry out this task, depending on whether John decides to shave. He goes into his bedroom and takes the bag of roses into his hands, hastily sneaking up to John’s room with them, and proceeds to spread each rose onto John’s bed in such a way that will definitely be deserving of a very special reward.

After taking out his mobile phone and snapping a picture, proud of his artful work, Sherlock wanders back down to his own bedroom, awaiting a response.

As the shower tap turns off, his pulse quickens. His entire body is thrumming with anticipation. He can’t wait to hear what John has to say.

_“Sherlock, my bedroom looks lovely. Thank you.”_

_“This is beautiful. Let’s get started on that special reward.”_

This isn’t exactly what happens.

“SHERLOCK! WHAT DID YOU DO?”

Sherlock does not respond. It is not his style to yell across the flat.

There are footsteps, heavy ones, and then a knock at Sherlock’s door.

“Sherlock!”

“...Yes, John?”

“Open the door, please.”

Sherlock wanders to the door and opens it. He regards the short, handsome, passionate man before him. John’s face is red, but it is decidedly not the blush of arousal Sherlock is seeing.

“Can you tell me why there are grass clippings all over my bed?” John says, through gritted teeth.

“They’re roses, John.”

“I…” He sniffs and emits a tiny amused breath. “Again, why?”

“Because roses are beautiful.”

“Sherlock.” John’s fists clench at his sides and he leans in closer. “What has gotten into you? I’m going to be picking thorns off my bed for days!”

He is now so close that Sherlock can feel his breath, shallow and irregular, on his face. His eyes wild, John glares at him, awaiting an explanation.

_They are meant to be romantic, John._

_I want to make everything beautiful for you, John, because my life is more beautiful when you are in it._

“Your bedroom is rather boring. I thought it could use some sprucing up,” Sherlock says.

John’s jaw is clenched, and he bites his lip to keep from saying something he will regret.

“You are going to clean up every last bit of it, Sherlock, or else I’ll be sleeping in your bed tonight.”

Oh.

Things seem to be working in Sherlock’s favour after all.

“Of course, John. Apologies.”

_Can’t promise I’ll be cleaning them off any time soon, though._

**_Task Two  
_** **_Results: Partial success  
_ ** ******_Notes: If a certain consulting detective becomes too busy to clean the roses off a certain doctor’s bed, it surely cannot be helped._**

_**********_

**Task Three:  
** **“My girlfriend and I call each other by silly, loving nicknames all the time. It’s proper ridiculous but it’s something that feels special to us. And I compliment her every chance I get. She never tires of hearing nice little words about how beautiful, smart, and incredible she is.” -Annie K.**

**********

**_Potential nicknames_ **

**_Category One: Animals (Real and/or Imaginary?)  
_** _~~**Pet**~~_  
~~**_Lovebird_**~~  
~~**_Tiger_**~~  
~~**_Cuddle Bear_**~~  
~~**_Lamb_**~~  
~~**_Honey Bunny_**~~  
~~**_Kitten_**~~  
~~**_Cuddle Bug_**~~

**_(Sickening. How do people actually get enjoyment from this?)_ **

******_Category Two: Baked Goods (John enjoys baked goods)_**  
**~~_Baby Cakes_~~**  
~~**_Sweetie Pie_**~~  
~~**_Honeybun_**~~  
~~******_Stud Muffin (Requires further research)_**~~  
~~**_Cupcake  
_ ** **_Cookie_ **~~

**_(NO.)_**

******Category Three: Affectionate Names John has Previously Given Me (Which may or may not work for him)**  
**_Idiot_** ~~~~  
**_Git_**  
**_Prat_**  
**_Arsehole_**  
**_Cock_**  
_**Mad Bastard**_  
**_Annoying Dick_**

 

**********

It’s lunchtime, and John is preparing food.

“Sherlock,” he calls out from the kitchen. “I’m making sandwiches. Would you care for one?”

Sherlock looks up from the list of nicknames in his possession. His head is spinning. He isn't hungry, but he knows John will yell at him if he doesn't eat.

"Alright," he says.

He isn't quite sure what happens next. He is caught off guard from the failure of the previous tasks, and he truly wants this plan to work. His brain is bursting with horrible nicknames, and before he can stop it, they seem to just fall out of his mouth.

_Category One._

“I’d love one, pie, erm, cookie...muffin....cake, hmm, fresh scones.”

_No. No. Stop immediately._

In lieu of a positive response, John peeks his head out, face full of confusion, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. “What? No, I’m not making any of those things.”

“Erm.”

_Category Two. Animals, go with animals. Animals are endearing. But John is unique—he is one in a million! There is nobody else like him! Pick an animal that is rare and beautiful!_

“Angora rabbit. Okapi. Long-eared jerboa.”

“Sherlock, are you feeling alright?” John quickly begins to stroll across the room towards him with noticeable concern.

John is always concerned for Sherlock's well-being, even when he is being a bumbling idiot.

Sherlock rapidly turns over the list of nicknames in an effort to shield John from seeing such embarrassing content, just as John reaches out and presses a hand, protective but tender, onto Sherlock's forehead.

“You feel a bit feverish," he says, running his palm down the side of Sherlock’s cheek.

_Category Three._

“Yes, I'm…fine, don't be such a...git.”

John quirks an eyebrow. “And he's back,” he says, smiling. "You had me worried for a moment."

His hand lingers on the side of Sherlock's face, and Sherlock fights the urge to lean into his warm touch.

_Compliment him. Say something nice to him._

“John?” Sherlock's voice is hoarse.

“Yeah, Sherlock?”

“I just wanted to say that, erm, the way you..."

_Laugh… it’s like a symphony._

_Smell… it’s like heaven._

_Make me feel... like I am the cleverest and most interesting person on the planet._

“The way you, erm, make sandwiches... is exquisite.”

_What the fuck?_

John gives Sherlock a sidelong glance, his hand finally falling from his face and onto his shoulder.

“Hm, I suppose it is,” he chuckles. “I’ll get started on one for you, then.” He grins at Sherlock in a way that only he knows how, and gives his shoulder a light squeeze before returning to the kitchen to make lunch.

 ** _Task Three  
_** _**Results: Massive Failure  
** **Notes: From now on, stick with “John.” This is more inherently romantic than any other thing one could possibly call him, anyway.**_

**********

 **Task Four:  
** **“Sometimes, I’ll leave flirtatious notes around the house for her to find—on the bathroom mirror, or in the pockets of her clothes. She loves discovering secret messages throughout the day.” -David S.**

“Sherlock,” John’s voice rings out from the bathroom later that afternoon. “What’s this? Do we have a new case or something?”

_I suppose you could say that._

“What are you talking about, John?” Sherlock responds. He feigns annoyance, but he is only being coy.

“There’s a post-it note on the mirror.” John emerges from the bathroom, holding the note up, and proceeds to read it aloud: “I would quite enjoy performing a complete body inspection with you, if you are amenable. -SH”

Sherlock prays that John does not notice him blushing furiously.

“Yes,” Sherlock clears his throat. “Well, obviously, it’s...”

_An invitation for us to explore one another’s bodies, John. Please don’t be so daft._

“...about a corpse I recently inspected at Bart’s. But it’s no longer relevant.”

“Oh.” John purses his lips together and runs his thumb over the yellow paper. “Mind if I throw it out, then? Don’t want the bathroom to be littered.”

_Don’t throw it out, John._

“Do what you feel you must.”

Moments later, John joins Sherlock again in the front room. Sitting down in his armchair, he opens up his laptop.

“Sherlock.” He pauses, pulls another piece of paper from the keyboard, and holds it between his forefinger and thumb. “Were you using my laptop again?”

Sherlock does not deign it necessary to look up from his own computer.

“You cause my heart to go into irregular defibrillation. -SH,” he reads.

_It sounds even more romantic when you say it._

Surely, SURELY this one must be obvious. So Sherlock sits and waits for John to arrive at his _a-ha_ moment.

“There’s a very detailed drawing on it,” John continues. “Didn’t realise you were such an artist.”

Sherlock finally peers up at him.

“I’m quite well-versed in human anatomy,” he meaningfully informs John.

“It’s a heart.”

“Yes. Well done.”

“What for?”

_I drew it for you, John, because the heart symbolises love and affection, and that is what you represent to me._

“I was bored.”

John laughs. “Nice work. Very realistic. We’ll have to hang it up on the mantelpiece.”

_That's it, then?_

_You don't see what is happening here?_

_You're going to treat is as though it's some piece of childish art?_

“No, John, it’s fine.” Sherlock stands up from the sofa. He walks over to take the paper from John before crumpling it up and tossing it into the rubbish bin. John watches, unblinking, but says nothing. Sherlock returns to the sofa and the two men go back to their laptops in silence.

Sherlock is beyond frustrated. The frustration of it all apparently causes him to become exhausted, because at some point, he drifts off to sleep.

Some time later, he is awakened by the sound of John’s voice. “You are more thrilling than a triple homicide. -SH,” he says.

Sherlock rubs his eyes sleepily and looks at John, who is standing above him.

“Found it in my trouser pocket. Any idea how it got there?” His lips part as his tongue darts outward in an innocuous manner, and Sherlock _hates_ it when he does that, because it makes his brain go foggy.

“No idea. Must have fallen in while I was doing the laundry,” Sherlock mumbles in annoyance, turning away to face the back of the sofa.

“Yeah, that must have been a dream you were just having. You have never done the laundry."

“Perhaps I was feeling generous.”

“Either way.” John says. “Very high praise, coming from you. I hope whoever the intended recipient is understands the weight of it.”

Sherlock whips his head around to look at John, hoping to gauge his expression, but John has already turned his back to him.

“I’m going to the market to pick up a few things,” John says, putting on his coat and heading toward the front door. “I’ll be back later.”

 ** _Task Four  
_** **_Results: Failure  
_ ** ******_Notes: John is an idiot._**

**********

 **Task Five:  
** **“Sometimes it’s as simple as spending that little bit of extra time with them. It shows you are really thinking about them. One thing I do—I always walk him to the door when he’s leaving. Our morning routines can be so crazy sometimes, and it can be really meaningful to spend those last few seconds together before we go off into our daily routines.” -Ryan T.**

The first part is not so difficult. Sherlock already spends nearly every waking moment with John, even going as far as to join him in activities he is not particularly fond of—just because it makes John happy.

John does the same for him.

Sometimes, when John turns on the television to some ridiculous talk show, Sherlock doesn’t even complain.

The depth of Sherlock’s feelings for this man cannot be denied.

So when John announces that he is going out for a bit, Sherlock tries to put his annoyance on hold and leaps up. As John opens the door of 221B and descends the stairs, Sherlock swiftly moves to follow him, until they are standing shoulder to shoulder at the bottom of the staircase.

“Sherlock,” John says calmly, with a touch of laughter in his voice. “What are you doing?”

Sherlock heaves a long-suffering sigh, because at this point, that question is more valid than it has any reason to be.

_I am endeavouring to get you to notice that I am in love with you, but that doesn’t seem to be working._

“I’m following you,” Sherlock says.

“Yes, I can see that.” John tilts his head toward Sherlock, but doesn’t meet his eyes. “Do you, er, want to come along or something? Perhaps you should put on something more...”

“No,” Sherlock replies. “I’m just seeing you out the door.”

Sherlock suddenly realises how crowded the stairwell is, and how wonderful John smells.

“Well, thank you,” John chuckles. “I think I’ve got it from here.”

“Of course,” Sherlock whispers.

John finally turns to face Sherlock, and Sherlock slowly rotates his body toward him.

“Need anything?” John asks, and he lifts his eyes to meet Sherlock’s.

_Yes._

Sherlock studies his face. The wrinkles on his forehead, the cleft of his chin, the stubble of whiskers peeking out over his cheeks and neck. His eyes fall upon John’s lips.

“No.”

  
**_Task Five  
_** _**Results: To Be Determined  
** **Notes: N/A**_

**********

 **Final Task (Optional—Depending on the outcome of previous steps)  
** **“A spontaneous kiss. Nothing compares to the moment that he grabs me out of nowhere and kisses me like I’m the only person in the world.” - Caden G.**

Spontaneous.

John enjoys spontaneity. It’s a bit like risk taking, and John most definitely enjoys taking risks.

Especially when it’s the two of them.

So they stand, still, at the bottom of the stairwell—silently facing one another, bodies inches apart. The room is completely quiet other than the sound of their breathing.

“You sure?” John asks.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Sherlock whispers, his stomach twisting.

_Do it._

Sherlock inhales, and his lips tingle with apprehension.

_DO IT._

John stares at Sherlock, unblinking, and there is something expectant in his gaze.

_Kiss him._

But Sherlock finds himself locked in this space, frozen, as if in a bad dream.

John nods, the right side of his mouth twitching. “Okay,” he says. He tilts his head to the side—his eyes scanning Sherlock’s face. “I'll see you later, then.”

It seems he wants to say more. But he doesn't.

And Sherlock doesn’t watch him as he walks out the door to leave, shutting it behind him. He simply stays where he is for several seconds, staring at the floor, thoughts pouring into his brain. He tries to solve the mystery of what had gone wrong.

It would seem that Sherlock's research had failed him—however, he does not believe that to be the case.

The culprit, undoubtedly, is sentiment. The error lies not in the data, but in his own feelings; his heart, as ever, leading to poor judgment.

He supposes he should just accept that, so he sets his foot heavily upon the first step, dragging himself back up to 221B.

But before making it to the third step, he hears the front door swing open loudly behind him.

****************

The sound of footsteps approaches Sherlock steadily, purposefully. Sturdy hands grab onto his shoulders, squeezing them, and before he realises what is happening, he is being spun around.

He begins to lose his balance, stumbling forward, but strong arms wrap around his waist to keep him from falling. His breath hitches as a pair of lips enthusiastically seal themselves onto his. Warmth spreads throughout his entire body, and he is overcome by a dizzy, pleasant sensation.

His heart is racing and his brain is flashing a thousand different words simultaneously. But there is only one word that demands his full attention.

_John._

Sherlock relaxes his body into John’s, sighing contentedly into the kiss. He brings his arms back up from his sides and wraps them around John’s shoulders, pulling him in closer, kissing him and kissing him and kissing him.

_Fantastic._

_Amazing._

_Brilliant._

When he breaks the kiss, it is only because he realises that he doesn’t know exactly why this is happening, and he can’t stand not knowing.

He pulls away and looks down at John, whose entire face is alight with a conspiratorial grin.

“And _that’s_ how you do a spontaneous kiss,” John says, with a smirk still plastered onto his face.

_What?_

_He knows?_

_But how?_

Sherlock must appear dumbfounded, because John says to him, “It seems you have questions.”

“John, how did you know about, er—“

“I knew something was up. You were acting odd. I mean, you always act odd, but I started to suspect something was even stranger after that second post-it note. Which was weird as hell, by the way.”

“Yes, that was rather obvious—wait, no. It wasn’t weird. It was romantic.”

“It was both,” John says fondly. “But I didn’t know if I could trust my own perception. Had I been wrong, it could have led to a very awkward situation for us.”

Sherlock narrows his eyes. “But… how could you have inferred that there would be a spontaneous kiss?”

“Came across your notes earlier while you were asleep. I waited for you to make your move after that, but it seems you needed a bit of help.”

Sherlock’s mouth hangs open in shock. “John! You went through my personal documents?”

_So clever, John._

_I should have known you’d figure it out._

_God, I love you so much._

“I’m deeply offended,” Sherlock lies.

“You’re not,” John says. Which is the truth.

He takes Sherlock’s hands into his and they smile at one another.

“Sherlock,” John says, looking down at their hands. “You don’t have to do these ridiculous things in order to woo me, you know.” He turns one of Sherlock's hands over and laces their fingers together. “You’ve actually been doing that since we very first met.”

Sherlock purses his lips thoughtfully. “Well, if that’s the case, then I suppose I can go on and tell you…”

John raises his eyes back up to him. Sherlock swallows thickly and opens his mouth to speak.

_That I think that you are the most incredible person in the universe._

_That I want to kiss you again—now, today, and every day, for the rest of our lives._

_That I never thought in a million years I would find someone who completes me the way you do._

“I love you,” Sherlock says, and it's as simple and complex as that.

John’s face lights up impossibly brighter—brighter than any sun, or moon, or star, or any other celestial body that Sherlock has failed to register in his brain. John's reaction catches him off guard, but it fascinates and astonishes him—so much that he finds himself wanting to say it again.

“I love you, John.”

“Yeah, I got that,” John responds, beaming at him. “And Sherlock," he says, in a way that makes his name sound valuable. “You have to know that I love y-“

But before he can finish his sentence, Sherlock presses his lips onto John’s, giving him a spontaneous kiss of his own.

 **_Final Task  
_** **_Results: Successful  
_ ** ******_Notes: He loves me, too._**


End file.
